


all the light that you possess (is skewed by lakes and seas)

by kingmaker



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Jonsa Drabble Fest, series of drabbles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-29 23:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13937349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/pseuds/kingmaker
Summary: Jonsa Drabble Week Day Two: Travel: Wherein Jon Snow went to King’s Landing as Sansa’s sworn-shield.Jonsa Drabble Week Day Three: The Past: Wherein Lady Sansa, the forgotten Stark, fostered at the Eyrie since girlhood, brought an army in answer to the Night’s Watch’s call for aid. Part II.Jonsa Drabble Week Day Four: You and Me: Modern AU wherein Robb should really learn not to ask questions.





	1. day one: winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Lady Sansa, the forgotten Stark, fostered at the Eyrie since girlhood, brought an army in answer to the Night’s Watch’s call for aid.   
> Jonsa Drabble Week Day One: Winterfell.

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DAY ONE: **WINTERFELL**

summary: part I of an AU I’ll never write wherein Lady Sansa, the forgotten Stark, fostered at the Eyrie since girlhood, brought an army in answer to the Night’s Watch’s call for aid. Or, Stannis’s reinforcements are a bit too late and a larger Arryn force already occupies the Wall. 

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The fires were leaping from tent to tent and some of the tall pines were going up as well. And through the smoke another wedge of armoured riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a moon-and-falcon of House Arryn in cream and sky-blue, and another, ice-white like a snowy field, with a grey direwolf running and crowned, and snapping in the wind.

Jon’s heart stilled.

_Robb_ , he thought for one mad moment, remembering the dusky might of Winterfell, shrouded in summer snow. Then, the trumpets blew again; and when the knights charged, the name they cried was “ _Stark_! _Stark_! **_STARK_**!”

Hope bloomed. 

* * *

“My lord,” Lady Sansa called, and Jon turned to her, willing his face to betray him not.  _I am no lord_ ; _and no knight_ , _either_.  _I am just another bastard_.  _But I was your brother_ , _once_ ; _if only by half_. 

_Do you remember me at all?_

“I do,” she said, and belatedly, Jon realised he had voiced his doubts. “I do not think I could ever forget Winterfell, and all those who lived there.”

“It is impossible,” agreed Jon, raspingly; and suddenly, found himself enveloped in a surprisingly strong embrace. Lady Sansa felt warm and unexpectedly familiar, and without thinking, Jon wrapped his arms around her just as tightly.

“And I remember you quite well, too, Jon Snow,” she whispered, and Jon closed his eyes.

Sansa was not the Stark he had hoped for, nor the little sister he had missed, but she was blood, and she was home, and he loved her still. 

_To err is to be human_ , Lord Stark used to say with a peculiarly far-away look. _And we are only human_ , _regardless of our grand names and ancient legacies_.

Jon could not forget her, even if he tried. Sansa was as much a part of him as he was a part of her — they were connected; through blood, through Winterfell, through sorrow.

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	2. day two: travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Jon Snow went to King’s Landing as Sansa’s sworn-shield.  
> Jonsa Drabble Week Day Two: Travel.

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DAY TWO: **TRAVEL**

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“I did not like the way they spoke to you,” spat Sansa, hotly. “They shouldn’t have. Not when— ugh!”

Jon glanced at his half-sister askance. She was fuming from indignation; had Sansa been a dragon, she’d be breathing smoke and fire. Still, Jon gave a non-committal shrug of one shoulder, his other hand moving to rest on the pommel of his sword as his eyes focused on a motley group of stragglers he and Sansa were crossing paths with. Once the men had rounded the corner, Jon spoke offhandedly. “It hadn’t bothered you before.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Jon knew it had been the wrong thing to say. A truth, as he perceived it, but an unkind one; and not wholly true, if one cared to examine closely the past. His baseborn parentage was a point of contention between Sansa and he, and could be just as easily explained as the one between Jon and Lady Stark — as in, not at all.

“That was then!” Sansa snapped, rounding on him. The hem of her skirts brushing his calves. “Now, it bothers me quite a bit.”

Jon’s ire was misplaced, he knew, and disproportionate; but it was burning hot through his blood, its smoke clouding the better part of his reason. “Now that I am _your_ sworn-shield. After all, everything I do reflects on you, doesn’t it.”

If Seven Hells opened up beneath his feet and swallowed Jon whole, it would be a kinder fate than to remain at her side after he had so thoughtlessly loosened his tongue. Jon had become accustomed to being candid and forthright with Sansa, and the newfound familiarity made him forget his station and his wits half the time. He had not even meant what he’d said, not truly. Lashing out on Sansa would not lessen the sting from all of his petty hurts, Jon knew that, yet he did it all the same. Because her starry-eyed disposition made it easy to hurt her; because her concern made her vulnerable; because she was simply _there_. Was this how the Lannisters feel? Carelessly hurting people simply because they could?

Before Jon could further explore this line of thought, Sansa spoke. “I am sorry.”

“What?”

“I am sorry,” she repeated, louder. Her face was set in a determined, neutral mask, and her voice was firm. “I realised I had never apologised for how I’ve — how my mother and I, both — had treated you—”

“Sansa, no, there’s—”

“Silence,” a sharp command that brook no argument. “You will hear my apology, Jon, for you are long overdue one. Then, you will decide for yourself whether or not you can find it in yourself to forgive me. I cannot — will not — force the latter. But you will give me the courtesy I am due as your lady and your sister, and allow me to speak. Understood?”

Numbly, Jon nodded. Jon hadn’t expected Sansa to be as formidable as their Lord Eddard was when he delivered a ruling to his vassals. A thought came unbidden to him then; _how little I know of her_. Was it possible to live one’s entire life in the same household with a person, and yet know them as well as one knew a passing stranger. 

_I wish to learn her_. _I will_.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Lady Sansa, the forgotten Stark, fostered at the Eyrie since girlhood, brought an army in answer to the Night’s Watch’s call for aid. Part II.  
> Jonsa Drabble Week Day Three: The Past.

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DAY THREE: **THE PAST**

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“I miss them all,” she confessed, hoarsely, though her startlingly blue eyes remained dry and distant. “So fiercely. It is a burning ache I cannot soothe—”

“A wound that would not stop bleeding,” finished Jon, before he could think better of it. Lady Sansa’s far-off, detached air was extinguished swifter than a blown out candle.

Hesitantly, she nodded, studying his solemn continuance in quiet contemplation. Once such piercing scrutiny would have put Jon ill at ease, made him squirm and chafe, but time had made him bolder and he met it with a steadfast gaze.

“I had not lied before; — I came because you called,” she began, haltingly. “But…I had also wanted to go _home_.”

“Understandable,” nodded Jon, agreeing. “You have been away for far too long, my lady.”

Lady Sansa bit her lip and shyly tilted her head sideways, as to not look him in the eye; a gesture strongly reminiscent of the birdsweet, airy girl of Jon’s memories. “They — that is, Pety– _Lord Baelish_ and Aunt Lysa, they had told…told me you were dead. Slayed by wildlings.”

“They call themselves the free folk,” correct Jon, unwittingly, whilst thinking distractedly, _I did die_. _The green boy I had been at Winterfell died somewhere in the deep snows north of the Wall_. 

He had changed, he knew. Somewhere between slaying Half-Hand, betraying his vows with Ygritte and then betraying _Ygritte_ , he had perished and resurrected as an effigy of himself, moulded out of gelid snow, duty, and grief. 

Lady Sansa’s lips twitched and she took a step small forward, pulling Jon out of his thoughts as she took his hands in hers. The coyness she’d displayed but moments prior dissipating like morning fog before the dawning sun. “Indeed. I have met some since. Interesting people; — the ethnonym is an apt one.”

Her blue eyes swept over his face once more and settled on a spot above his eye. And what little gayety she might have had, deserted her. “I thought you dead, J—Lord Snow. I thought…I was all alone,” the voice that spoke was hoarse and low; it did not seem to belong to the Lady Sansa. “I wished to perish, if only to reunite with my family; and I nearly did, in the Eyrie, but not out of my own volition.”

This revelation disturbed Jon deeply, but he had not opportunity to voice his concern as suddenly, unexpectedly, he found himself swaying unsteady on his feet, wrapped in a staggeringly fierce embrace of his lady sister.

“I’ve missed you, Jon Snow,” whispered she, hot breath ghosting over the exposed skin of his neck, sending prickled up his spine. “Words cannot express _how much I have missed you_.”

Hesitantly, Jon wrapped his arms around the Lady’s gracile frame; and felt her long, bony fingers tighten, seemingly pierce through the layers of boiled leather and blackened wool, as she clutched fiercely onto the sinewy flesh coating his leadened bones.

“I have missed you, too, my lady,” rasped Jon, and her rib cage shuddered beneath his open palm, as she took a ragged breath and buried her face deeper into the flexure between his neck and shoulder.

“Please, do not call me that,” she murmured, tilting her head back slightly as to stare him in the eye. Inexplicably, it took him by surprise how tall she was. “I am not your lady. We are kin, there are to be no titles between us.”

“What name you then?” _Shall I call you little sister, and ruffle your hair as I once did with Arya_?

_Could I even?_

Mercifully, she did not feign false consideration before telling him with a timid smile, “Sansa.”

“Then, I must insist on you call me Jon.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU wherein Robb should really learn not to ask questions.
> 
> Jonsa Drabble Week Day Four: You and Me.

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DAY FOUR: YOU AND ME

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“I like the bartending gig,” shrugged Sansa, casting off her jacket with the motion. “Between it and my mid-day shift lifeguarding, I’m actually rolling in tips. It’s all very lucrative, if a bit like prostitution.”

Robb chocked on his soda, and Jon leaned across the table and frantically slapped his back. Sansa waited to check that her brother had not met an untimely end, before continuing; clearly amused. “But, you know, my job’s classier, and less morally suspect.”

“Not to mention legal,” added Jon, smirking, settling back down in his seat.

“That, too.”

“ _What_ ,” wheezed Robb, swatting away Jon’s hands, “did you mean by ‘ _it’s a bit like prostitution_ ’!”

“As in ‘people pay me a bit more because they think I’m very cute and I condone all of their shameless ogling’?” Sansa raised a sceptical eyebrow. “This is obviously a hyperbolic parallel, but still. Way to take all humour out of a joke, Robb.”

“You have an awful sense of humour,” he grumbled, then hiccuped, reddening.

“I don’t. You just overreact because of the weirdest things,” Sansa pointed out.

“I’m your big brother.”

“And Jon’s my boyfriend, the only person allowed to put his dick into me. You don’t see him chomping at the bit trying to mark his territory.”

Robb boggled and opened his mouth, thought a bit more, and closed it. Then, he diverted his gaze at Jon, who backed away, towards Sansa, hands raised. “Don’t look at me, bud. I’m not involving myself into this conversation.”

“Good choice,” Sansa nodded, sagely. “Smart.”

“I am known to make those kind of decisions from time to time, yes.”

“You two,” began Robb, slowly shaking his head, “are _awful_. You honestly deserve each other.”

“Thanks,” quipped Sansa, pulling Jon’s arm across her shoulders as he tucked her into his side, and laced their fingers together. “We think so, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @[stark](https://stark.tumblr.com), if you like. :)


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